The Uninvited Guest
by Ayngel
Summary: Long before the war, Smokescreen and Swindle live in domestic harmony. That is, until Swindle goes to work for Onslaught and invites a new 'colleague' back to Smokey's Iacon apartment. Smokescreen/Swindle/Vortex; crack, sticky smut, angst
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** Coarse and sexual language, adult themes, sexual acts of the _sticky_ variety.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story._

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><p><strong>Notes: <strong>I love the Smokescreen/Swindle pairing. I also love the Combaticons, and especially Swindle's relationship with them. And I really enjoy thinking about background stories, and how things came to be by the time of the series, as influenced by the past. Not to mention being a _complete sucker_ for angst and drama.

So this story puts all these 'likings' together. Set some time before the Cybertronian war, Swindle and Smokescreen are an item, and are 'shacked up' together in Smokey's apartment. Smokescreen works for the Bank of Iacon. Swindle has ceased his small time hustling for a much more lucrative passtime – working for Onslaught.

And the other Combaticons also work for Onslaught and are a close knit, elitist criminal outfit, although not, of course, at all 'attached' in the way they later are by the Combaticon gestalt.

When Vortex pays a visit, life for Smokescreen and Swindle is about to get complicated ...

**And:** I have the amazing **Ultharkitty** much to thank for a great deal of help and input and inspiration with this. (Her fabulous stories are highly recommended!)

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><p><strong>~~The Uninvited Guest~~<strong>

**By Ayngel**

Chapter 1

When Swindle moved into my place, everything was sweet. For a while.

The trouble was, Swindle developed this obsession: his new _employment. _And when he wasn't 'doing things' for Onslaught, or engaged in escapades with his new 'colleagues,' he went on about them. _A lot._

That day, we were busy cleaning up the apartment. It had been in rather a state. Swindle had been away, and I'd been moping, drinking more than I should and not clearing up after. When he'd returned, I'd whisked him into the berth where he'd been more than happy to have my undivided attention to his interface components for the best part of two cycles. The mounds of empty bottles, cubes and remnants of death sticks sat abandoned.

I was now in the process of rectifying this, and was tidying and vacuuming the floors, whilst I tried to ignore the growing pile of refuse. Swindle, meanwhile, was putting up pictures in the spare room – some 'deep space prints' he'd acquired from this shuttle friend of Onslaught's who – I could gather from his continual chatter – was another one of 'them.' The task was taking an inordinately long time - on account of the chattering.

/This offworld mob were gettin' _real heavy!_/ he went on, his comvoice sounding over the moan and whine of the cleaner, as dust and bits and pieces were sucked into its nozzle. /They were tryina force me into a corner, see, make me agree to less than they'd said on com. And frag, if I'd been on my own, I'da been slagged, Smokey! But hell, no! Vortex and Brawl were suddenly just kinda _there._ And Vortex was like - _amazing,_ Smokey! I never saw nothing like it!/

"Great ….." I said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice, but not succeeding. Instead, more than an inkling of the annoyance I felt came through. The story had gone on for several breems. I was considerably unimpressed about Swin even getting in a situation like this, even more so with these 'colleagues' for letting him do so. And the way he had been talking about this Vortex – some heliformer gangster type by all accounts – was starting to _really _give me the pits.

/This offworlder, he was quite a bit bigger than them,/ Swindle went on. /But Vortex – he just grabbed the slagger and said: _You got a problem, fragwit? Cos it seems to me deal's been done fair and square, and I don't like it when mechs wanna mess with my associates. _Heheh! And by that, he meant _me_ of course, Smokey … _/_

My denta clenched, and I ground the vacuum cleaner hard into the floor.

"Brawl was really giving 'em the evils, an' this mob just backed off, Smokey!" Swindle was no longer on com. I glanced across to see him standing the door with the hammer in his hand, optics sparkling. "Like – no fraggin' way they were gonna stay an' argue," he yelled above the vacuum noise. "And before they went, they put the whole lot in my credit account plus – plus a little bit extra. Vortex called that a 'make sure we don't come looking for ya' bonus. Brawl said Vortex gets a lotta mechs to come up with that kinda money. Pretty neat, eh?"

It was fortunate that just then I came across a pile of cubes I hadn't found earlier. I aimed the nozzle straight at them, and the glass shattered, disappearing with satisfying crunches and tinkles. /How convenient!/ I was able to say , the noise drowning the positively murderous twinge in my voice as I concentrated, avoiding his twinkling optics.

Swindle switched back to com. /You'll never guess what happened then!/ he said. /The big one, he turned back and looked Vortex up and down in this really suggestive way. But Vortex, he just said. _Keep walking, aft, you look at me like that again, you're not just dead you're – gonna know a whole dimension of pain like you never even thought of_. Hey! Isn't that cool?/

A large cube gave an extra satisfying crunch as it shattered. Could this get any worse? Not only had they put Swindle in danger, but it seemed this _Vortex _had all the intellectual capacity of a cyberfly. / Isn't that a bit over the top?/ I said. /What if you wanna do business with them again?/ Maybe, I thought, this 'Onslaught' would have the good sense not to keep such a moron around for long.

"Oh yeah, no doubt!" Swindle had come up close and perched on the back of the settee. "But they're gonna quake in their frames if that happens. They won't dare try anything again. Not with Vortex and Brawl around!" He paused. "Yeah! I never had anyone so much – _there _for me."

I cannot begin to tell you how furious that made me. "I suppose it doesn't count that _I've _always been here for you, Swindle!" I snapped, collecting the last shards of glass and switching the vacuum cleaner off so it came to rest with a low hum. I pushed past him without looking at him, and proceeded to stow it noisily in its niche in the wall.

But my state of mind had registered. I felt a small arm around my waist, and Swindle's warm cheek pressed against my arm, and he was saying, "Awwww, they can't take your place, Smoke. You're like – _special!_ I've really missed you …"

And there was nothing more guaranteed to wipe my mind of everything than Swindle against me, all warm metal and oil and polish, saying something like that. Instantly, I forgot all about Vortex and Brawl, and offworld mobs getting threatened with fates worse than death.

"Yeah, I've missed you too, Swin!" I said, and pulled him to me.

…

The fragging was always good with Swindle. It was as though he built up as much charge in half a cycle as most mechs did in about ten. I never have, in all my long eons of existence, known anyone who could overload so hard and so frequently, with so little recovery time in between, and in such a way that my every sensor screamed for its own release. When my own overload came, I swear it always felt like a volcano exploded through my spike.

Despite our having indulged so recently, this promised to be no exception; and yet, as he collapsed on to me after about his fourth or fifth overload, the waves of release roaring up my spike and straight to my core, I found my mind roaming in a highly disquieting way. He'd been not just passionate, but _amazingly_ passionate. Was he always _quite _as passionate as this?

Or - I froze inside - was it because he was thinking of _other mechs_. Certain,_ rotored_ other mechs? He hadn't said my name once during the whole time we'd been doing it. And as he'd approached each overload, his face had been contorted with even greater than usual ecstasy, his optics hazy and unfocused; it was as though his spark was a million parsecs from what we were doing.

I shuttered my own optics and pulled him on to me, fucking him hard, thrusting into him and ramming the end plate of his valve, forcing the thoughts from my head. He came straight to another overload, which this time as the sheer force of its energy hit me I cried out, releasing in a deluge.

For a few clicks we floated, suspended in delicious waves as my spike pulsed, flooding him with fluid. As they subsided, his optics onlined, and then he was looking at me, all soft violet hues and afterglow. "I love you, Smoke!" he whispered. Pulling me down, he kissed me in a way which left no doubt about the truth of this statement.

…

A little later, he lay on my shoulder, his fingers curling gently against my bumper as I stroked his helm. I felt like a coghead. How could I have had those earlier thoughts? Just because Swindle had 'exciting' new colleagues it didn't mean he was fragging them – or that he didn't want me.

No – he loved me. And now, I reminded myself, I had some welcome time off – and we were going to have a few lovely days together. Yes - a 'break' would do wonders for us! We could go somewhere _romantic,_ I thought. A nice resort, some tasty energon and a few more sessions like we just had, and he'd probably forget all about the new 'associates'.

But this was not to be. For no sooner was the thought in my processor, than he stirred, propping himself up and looking at me, all excited again.

"By the way. Forgot to tell ya!" he said. "Vortex is coming over for a _few drinks. _I thought you could do some food!_"_

My systems jarred with a sharp twang, the 'nice thoughts' vanishing instantly. He invited _him_ back. To _my place?_ For _food!_ My earlier anger surged with renewed potency. No. Talking about him was one thing but this …. Swindle had gone too far!

And I opened my mouth to say exactly that - but there he was, all enthusiastic face and shining purple optics, and the objection froze in my vocalizer.

"I …uh …" I stammered.

"Please …." And then he kissed me in _that way_ again.

And it was then, as his glossa probed in places which made my circuits tingle all over again, that my processor whirled as an idea - a very appealing idea - suddenly made itself known. A little smug feeling twanged inside me. _Bring it on!_ I thought. Because suddenly it didn't matter how 'cool' this character was. This would be my big chance to _let him know exactly where he stood._

"Awwww – that'll be swell!" I said, pushing Swindle back up and grinning.

"You're the _best_!" he said, chuckling delightedly as I pulled him back on to my shoulder and tightened my hold.

_I know,_ I thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings:** Coarse and sexual language, adult themes, sexual acts of the _sticky_ variety in overall story.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story._

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><p>The drama continues !<p>

**More thanks **to the amazing **Ultharkitty** for beta-ing.

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><p><strong>~~The Uninvited Guest~~<strong>

**By Ayngel**

Chapter 2

It was still a few breems before the heliformer was due to arrive. Splashing, accompanied by a happy humming sound came from the ablution room where Swindle, having already washed himself a great deal more meticulously than usual, was now putting in some 'extra touches.' I grimaced, trying not to pay too much attention to the uncharacteristically thorough job.

"Hey Smokey," he yelled out. "You got the oilcakes and casserole in the cooker?"

"No," I said. "I might put them in now." I started towards the kitchen, slowly, an ache in my spark. How much I wanted to have Swindle _always _splashing around in my ablution room. How much I didn't want him 'going off' with some heliform gangster. But then, my spark hardened. It was not going to happen. And this amazingly _there _mech, this _cool operator_ who was really nothing but a mindless thug would be left in no doubt about that!

I was putting the containers in the cooker when the buzzer sounded, indicating the arrival of a visitor at the downstairs entrance.

My circuits jarred uncomfortably, as Swindle's alarmed face appeared at the door to the kitchen. "Smokey!" he squeaked. "I am _sooo_ not nearly ready! Can you keep him talking for a click or two?"

It didn't escape me that Swindle's panels positively gleamed. He looked _really_ good. For a microsecond I despaired again. When was the last time he went to that trouble for me? And how could any mech – even one with only half a processor – resist him?

But suddenly, a most 'in control' feeling took over. How fortuitous that I would meet this _would be_ replacement for my affections one on one! I would look him in the optic, _mech to mech,_ and this 'association' would get off on exactly the kind of footing it needed to get off on!

"No worries, Swin, you finish up. I'll let him in," I said. And closing the cooker door, I drew myself up and strode resolutely in the direction of the hallway, stiffening my doorwings rather as my cousin Prowl would do. Yes, I thought, as I approached the little console with the screen which gave a visual of the downstairs lobby. I was a Praxan, a member of the Datsun Clan. And I was damned if I was getting fragged around!

I would 'string out' his admittance to my humble abode, I thought, feeling pleased. Ask a few – _questions_. Keep him hovering on the doorstep. That way Swindle got to finish his beautification process, and this _character_ – well he would get the message that he was not so important that he was getting anywhere near my door before _I 'd_ decided this could happen!

But I stopped in my tracks at the image on the screen.

...

Later, I surmised, it was hard for anyone not to be taken by Vortex. Even on camera, he cut an extremely striking first impression. Large and shiny, he stood in a casual stance, strong arms folded over a powerful chest. The security lights were catching him at just such an angle that he gleamed against the dark backdrop. I gave a sharp intake as I took in the well-put-together form, dark face clad in a battle mask and red visor and, visible behind him, the tips of four large rotors.

I could not help a little tingle from spreading inside. Even on the screen, the mech exuded a kind of smexuality and power you didn't see that often. I looked closer, noting that his paint was a dark metallic grey and that the rotor tips quivered now and then. Unable to prevent it, my optics travelled down. Stocky thighs were parted slightly and just above them, the inevitable bulge of an unmistakeably well filled codpiece.

I shivered. At the same time I became aware of the drier rattling in the ablution room, and for a moment, dread again plunged into my spark. There was absolutely no question what Swindle saw in this mech! How could this _paragon of _mechly powernotbe my downfall? I despaired. Soon, no longer would I hear the sounds of Swindle splashing his ablutions, or tapping pictures on to walls, or - of Swindle doing anything. I would never hold him close, stroke his helm again, or kiss him deeply as we swept into overload ...

The heliformer shifted. He was staring straight at the camera, and because of the mask it was impossible to read his expression, but his rotors twitched, his optics flaring slightly in a way which made me think that waiting in doorways wore thin for him very quickly, and probably resulted in not very nice outcomes for those who made him do it.

And that was enough to remind me _who _and _what _he was. Enough to bring back my earlier resolve. Yes! However magnificent this specimen was, he clearly lacked in self control, and undoubtedly possessed only basic neural circuits. I was right in my earlier assumptions! Well, he could get as steamed up as he liked, put on a show, flash his impressive body and rotors all he liked. But he'd get the message loud and clear. _Nobody _jumped to his tune!

I smiled to myself. This was exactly how I wanted it!

I cast another glance at the screen as he shifted again, all raw metal power. A burst of heat went through my engine, but I instantly quelled it with a wash of coolant. No! It would not work on me! And I was _not _losing Swindle to him!

With controlled nonchalance, I activated the two way visual. "Uh – Vortex isn't it?" I said, pleased because I managed to sound impressively indifferent.

He unfolded his arms. Then his face loomed closer as he peered into the camera, his battle mask retracting to reveal a chiselled, well set grey face. Despite my resolve, my circuits gave a sharp jolt. In addition to being well built, Vortex was also extraordinarily good looking.

His optics roved, checking me over. He grinned. "Well now, Swin didn't tell me about the doorwings!" he said, and his voice was deep, metallic and with a rough and gritty Kaon drawl which sounded astoundingly sexy. And I could not help it, my lower regions burned, a fiery path tracing its way right to my core. "You gonna let me in?" he said. "Or do I only get to see 'em from here?"

Heat washed through me, and I opened my mouth to speak. But at that moment, there was a metal rustling and quick footsteps, and Swindle appeared beside me.

My lover let out a gasp. "Smokey! What are you doing? Let him in! Hell – sorry Vortex! Er - door catch has been a bit sticky lately!"

Leaning across me, he activated the downstairs door release. "Come on up!" he said.

I tore my optics from the screen, in time to see Swindle cast a puzzled and rather cross look in my direction. He did not see the look of pure lechery which, out of the corner of my optic, I saw Vortex give me. "See ya's in a click, sexy mechs!" the heliformer said. And Swindle and I both looked at the screen as his face disappeared from view.

Then came the sound of feet clanking up the stairs outside. I turned to Swindle, my processor a mess of shock and confusion. I didn't know whether to be insulted or flattered, furious or excited. Fear of losing Swindle - or triumph if I didn't – was no longer in my processor. The heliformer's approach and imminent arrival, the seeing of him right here face to face, _any minute now_, consumed me entirely.

Swindle frowned. But clearly my reaction was not a priority either. He smiled nervously. "How do I look?"

I was conscious again of his gleaming form, the ultra 'clean' scent of him with a whiff of expensive polish. He looked radiant! His whole countenance sent a tingle through my spark, warm, familiar, and filled with the solidity of the life we'd made together. Swindle mattered. And _what was I playing at?_ I was going to _save_ him from this fiend in the stairwell. Not gawp at the moron like some mechalescent halfwit.

The footsteps got closer, and a large shadow fell across the entranceway. Current surged through my pelvic circuits, and I knew I just should not look at Vortex.

"You look fantastic," I said to Swindle, and I leaned over and kissed him, very gently. "I'll – uh - go get some drinks!"

...

I clattered in the kitchen cupboard, my mood darkening as I made far more noise than was necessary as I extracted some cubes. Since entering the apartment - _my_ apartment - he had not even acknowledged me!

All right, so I had not greeted him at the door. But he knew I was here, he'd seen me on the screen, for Primus sake! It was my place! Surely it was not beyond even his limited intelligence to have the decency to poke his head around the door and say "Hi! I'm Vortex!"

But no! Instead, he had made himself perfectly at home in the loungeroom! And now, the aroma of deathsticks wafted in, his infuriating drawl sounding in concert with Swindle's equally infuriating chirping as they 'caught up on work issues.'

My lover seemed to have forgotten I even existed.

"How'd things go on Ganthis?" he bubbled enthusiastically as I found the cubes I'd been looking for - an inferior brand I wasn't fond of, received as an unwelcome gift from a friend - and banged them down on the bench.

"All right I guess," responded the heliformer. "Deal went down. We got the glitch who tried to rip us off. We ... took him out."

His voice was low and throaty , and I thought I caught a rev to his engine. No doubt all part of the 'act' to appear 'cool' and 'dangerous!'_ Well it didn't!_ I insisted to myself as I pulled out a much better quality cube for myself and ripped the top off, driving any smidgen of any notion of his 'attractiveness' once and all from my processor.

"You really put him right out of action?" Swindle sounded enraptured.

"Yeah! And a few of his hangers on." There was a chuckle "Lotta body parts scattered around and energon flowing." The chuckle deepened, resonating in a way I presumed was supposed to sound impressively 'evil.' "Messy - but satisfying."

"Hey - swell! Wish I coulda seen it!"

My denta gritted, and I took a large swig from the cube, grateful for the fiery path it burned to my processor. At least, if nothing else, Vortex was proving true to form. I looked at the cubes on the bench. He could have one, I decided, to appease Swindle. Then I would have no hesitation in asking him to leave, confident that I had done absolutely the right thing.

Then Swindle and I would have a 'talk.' And I did not think for one click that he would like what I had to say, but it would be for his own good!

I picked up the cubes and steeled myself, and prepared to join them in a way which left no doubt about my sentiments.

"What's the story with Itopis ?" Swindle piped up, before I had taken a step.

Vortex gave another chuckle. "That's just where Onslaughts' got a bit of a shooting range. And a hunting lodge. Fun! There's cyberfauna there - turbofoxes an' the like. They make OK targets - you're gonna dig it."

"Cool!"

I froze. They were going away together? To this _big shot's _hunting lodge? I could not believe it! Had they really gotten that close in such a short space of time.

There was a metal rustling and the sound of a chair scraping on the floor, followed by the click of another death stick being lit. "Make a change from this joint!" Vortex drawled. "It's all right - but - bit chintzy for my tastes. A bit too - Praxan. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know!" Swindle chirped. "But hey, no problem! Way I'm going, I'm gonna get somewhere far better in no time!"

My spark reeled in utter shock. And then I bristled in absolute outrage. Was that really how it was? After all I'd done for Swindle, brought him in, given him a home, shared my berth with him and this was how he ended up thanking me?

Well, if that was how he felt, he could leave as well. Yes! They could both go. Swindle had made his berth and he could lie in it. I was going right in there now, and I was going to tell Swindle it was obvious how he felt, and that his stuff would be waiting in the lobby downstairs just as soon as I could gather it together!

On impulse, I crossed the room and got out one of my rather better trays – one awarded by the Bank - the Bank of Iacon, the sensible, legitimate employer with whom I was going to have a long and prosperous career, free of _types_ like Vortex and Swindle!

I loaded the three cubes and, picking it up proudly, strode out of the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings:** Coarse and sexual language, adult themes, sexual acts of the _sticky_ variety in overall story.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story._

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><p>Bad, bad copter ...<p>

Silly Swindle ...

Vulnerable Smokescreen ...

**More thanks **to the amazing **Ultharkitty** for beta-ing.

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><p><strong>~~The Uninvited Guest~~<strong>

**By Ayngel**

Chapter 3

But of course, they made it so difficult!

Vortex was lounging on the couch, all black gleaming metal and thighs and rotors. I tried not to look at him. And even less at Swindle, right next to him, all shiny yellow and fresh blackened tyres and gleaming headlamps. My spark twanged again. Both were indisputably irresistible, in their own unique ways, and - I couldn't ignore it – _I could see them as an item._ But I couldn't bear to think this.

No – well why bother? They weren't worth it anyway! Did they really think I had forgotten what they'd said?

I was aware of an amused look on Vortex's face, of him checking me out as I put the tray down. And, infuriatingly, every move he made sent currents rippling over my sensor net. I looked up to see his red, now unvisored optics glinting straight into mine with a wicked and yet almost playful suggestiveness.

"So – you gonna come an' talk to us or hide out there all night?" he grinned. "Swin, what you tell this guy about me? Seems like he's scared already!"

If Swindle felt awkward, it didn't show one iota. In fact, he giggled, as though he'd already consumed the contents of the cubes on the tray. "He's a bit shy sometimes!" he twittered.

I glared at him, just as Vortex patted the seat on his non Swindle side. "No more shop talk, Swindle!" he said. "Come on, doorwings! Sit beside me!"

I made a point of placing the tray on the table and then sitting down very firmly on the chair opposite. Vortex laughed. Stubbing out his deathstick, he proceeded to help himself to a cube. Meanwhile, alluring purple optics in a fuzzy state of great happiness cast me an imploring look.

/Hey! Lighten up, Smoke!/ Swindle said.

/How could you!/ I hissed. /So this place is a chintzy dive, is it?/

/Course I don't think that!/ he hissed back. /Use ya brains! I'm tryin'a create a good impression!/

/Yeah! Well you're not creating one with me!/

A crestfallen look came about my lover. One I knew well.

/I love this place, Smoke, ya know I do!/ he wailed, a pained look in his optics. But it only made me mildly better disposed towards him. Meanwhile, Vortex had noticed our little 'interaction' and was, to my annoyance, looking on with amusement.

"So what's with the domestics?" he drawled. "Smokey!"

I bristled. Only Swindle called me that. I looked at my lover again. The wounded look was gone and he shrugged, playfully. /Told him you like it!/ he said.

Chuckling, wickedly, Vortex cracked the cube and threw half the contents down. Then he reached for the death sticks. "Tell me, Smokey," he said, lighting one. How long you been living here at Swin's?" Acrid smoke rose into the air. "You seem uptight," he grinned. "How d'you put up with it, Swin?"

I froze again. Of all the outrageous things so far, this took the cake! _How long had I_ … Well, he could just learn right here and now that it was _my_ place and Swindle lived _here!_ And that Swindle was my lover. I opened my mouth to protest, but Swindle shot me a 'look.'

/Onslaught thinks I got my own place, Smoke!/ he said. /If you could kinda keep up the façade – well – that'd be really helpful!/

I was incredulous. /Swindle!/ And now I know I looked furious.

The purple optics got their pleading, appealing look again. /Please, Smokey! Look – that was why I could say it was a heap o'pit, see? It was kinda like – a criticism of me, not you!/

I fumed again, wanting to tell Swindle exactly what I thought of that. But he was still looking at me, and Vortex was watching us again, thoroughly entertained. The combination of the two made things suddenly clear. All this was Vortex's fault! Swindle - as only I knew – seemed all cocky but was full of self doubts, and desperately wanted to be included in this 'outfit.' Vortex had made him feel he had to lie, or they wouldn't want him. Well Swindle didn't need them. He had me, he didn't have to pretend to me! A great wanting for Swindle to be mine and only mine tore through me.

"We've been _together_ a few vorns!" I snapped. "It's what you call a long-term arrangement!"

"Together, huh? Well ain't that nice!" Vortex finished his cube and stubbed his death stick out in it. Then he chucked it on the table. And then, right in front of my obviously furious face, his optics never leaving mine, he casually looped his arm around Swindle's shoulders.

Swindle's face lit up, beaming like an insecticon with a crate of choice spare parts. Vortex grinned.

"Can't say I blame you. Got yourself a little gem, here!" Vortex said. "Worth his weight in electrum." Taking his arm away, he shifted, inclining his back to my lover. "You wouldn't be able to just give rotor number two a little _special Swindle treatmen_t would you, mech?"

Swindle did, at least, try to look awkward. But it didn't stop a delighted little smile from lingering on his faceplates, or him taking hold of the rotor and massaging it lightly, pressing with his fingers.

"Mmmnnn … nice!" said Vortex, ruffling his rotors. Swindle made a little noise, his attentions became more pronounced as he dug his fingers in. But he must have sensed my outrage, because he glanced across, and the look on my face by now must have suggested that 'not amused' was the understatement of the vorn, because the fingers eased on the rotors.

/Smokey I know what this looks like! / he whispered./ But hey – I'm not gonna do anything! This is good business! It's a dangerous game – You want me to stay safe, don't ya?/

"Hey, no slacking!" As Swindle's ministrations resumed in earnest, Vortex looked across and winked at me, a lecherous grin on his face. Opening his mouth, he extended his glossa to just run along his lower lip, as one hand reached over to feel Swindle's knee.

I couldn't look at them, or answer Swindle. "I'm going to check on the food!" I snapped, springing up.

….

I stormed into the kitchen and leaned against the bench, intaking to recover my composure. What the heck could I do about this? Clearly, Vortex was one of those types, good looking, sexy, 'cool.' Able to set off interface sequences in, I imagined, just about anyone. The guy loved the effect he had on Swindle, loved his reaction; and Swindle had shown no hesitation in giving him that satisfaction! It came to me again, the thought of storming back in there, and asking them both to leave.

And then, I felt a great pain in my spark. Because Swindle was vulnerable, so easily swayed by being made to feel important – which was exactly what this fiend was doing. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure that whilst Vortex found Swindle pleasing – I did not see how anybody could not – I was certain that it was not half so appealing to Vortex as Vortex was to Swindle; that Vortex's main interest in Swindle was for his business abilities; that this was a game, in which my lover was strung along, whilst anyone else was equally welcome to fuel his gargantuan ego.

Yes - everything about Vortex suggested a conquest, and Swindle the victim. _The latest victim,_ I surmised. There would be many. And every time one succumbed, it only served to further swell this heliformer's already magnanimous self appreciation.

Hell - he'd even tried it on me! And I had almost been taken in by it!

I yanked open the oven door and pulled out the two containers full of oilcakes, my resolve returning. He wasn't having my 'attentions'. And he certainly wasn't having Swindle! If nothing else in the universe ever transpired, I would see to that!

I would have this 'talk' with Swindle, I decided, as I got out two platters and set them down on the bench. Clever though he was on the business world, my lover was hopelessly naive about some things. I would explain, gently, how attractive his 'abilities' undoubtedly were to this mech, this scoundrel, but how that was probably about all.

Yes. I could feel my optic ridges furrowing into a frown as I wrestled with the lid on the first container. I would lay it down the line – leave my lover in no doubt as to how he would get used in whatever way the heliformer chose – until a better proposition came on the horizon, whereupon he would no longer be 'it,' and would be hung out to dry.

And Swindle would not want to hear it. Oh no - he would get stroppy, cantankerous. Maybe even storm out. But he would have heard enough - and was intelligent enough - to have gotten the drift. He would see sense, return, and be overwhelmed by gratitude.

Next door, Vortex said something in a throaty voice, words I could not catch. Swindle's laughter floated through the air. I gave the container lid an extra hard tug and it came off suddenly, flying out of my hand and landing with a _clang_. Oh, Swindle had been well and truly taken in! But Swindle was going to be enlightened.

Determined of this, I went to retrieve the lid.

"I'm not fragging him y'know!"

I jumped. I had not registered that the conversation in the other room had come to an end. But it evidently had – as Vortex was leaning against the bench, all black oily smexiness and casual slung rotors. I had not heard him come in. Nor did I know where Swindle had gone.

I could feel his optics roving over me. "No need to get your tailpipe in a knot!" He grinned. The fragging's all yours. I just like his _mind_."

The nerve of it! And it just served to confirm everything I had been thinking. Yanking the lid off the second container, I started to lay the oilcakes very firmly on the first platter.

"Well you watch your step with his mind!" I snapped. "Because Swindle and I have got a good thing going! And I'd be pretty pissed if some mech stepped in and fragged it over!"

Vortex reached out and helped himself to an oilcake. I heard him take a bite and chew, softly. Steeling my spark, I stopped what I was doing and looked him straight in the optics, returning the red stare with a blue one of my own, and forcing all notions of his attractiveness out of my processor. "And that goes for both his _mind_ and the relationship. So you just remember that, Vortex!"

But the optics only flared slightly, deepening to a rich magenta, as an amused expression appeared. "A love nest!" he chuckled. "How cute! Not the smartest set up, I wouldn'a thought, in our kinda scene."

He polished off the cake, still wearing that 'entertained' look. But then a change came over him. He seemed to tense, darkening, his optics glinting dangerously. His voice deepened, taking on that 'edge' I had heard earlier.

"It'll be all right, though, provided you don't interfere," he said, optics glinting as he licked his fingers. "Otherwise ... mechs who get in the way of Onslaught's outfit can be kinda -_ temporary_. But I guess you'll figure it out."

I shivered. There was a chilling conviction to the words which made me sure, with a sickening jar, that our lives had changed. Vortex was like a frolicking cybercat, harmless in play, yet always on guard, capable of transforming to a lethal hunter, cruel and merciless for the sake of prey or an enemy. I felt a sharp jab of fear. Vortex was, indeed, very cybercat like. It was then that I realized, this mech didn't kill out of business or even loyalty. Just as with every other conquest, he did it because he enjoyed it.

And he would do it to us, I was certain. If we stepped out of line. If we didn't …. well, he might even protect us. Always, it was a precarious balance, a terrifyingly chilling reality. And yet, despite all my inner protestations, it thrilled me to the core. I began to see, for the first time, what Swindle saw in all of this.

Vortex helped himself to a second cake, with black, slender fingers. His joints rustled with subtle slickness, his gaze flickering away only for a second before it settled back on me. And even though it went against all I wanted to think and feel, I could not help a swathe of heat from washing through me. I had never even considered whether I equated danger with sexiness. But now, as I watched him devour the oilcake, I thought again of the cybercat. This mech was clever, not the brainless lout I'd labelled him, but intelligent and calculating.

Powerful, beautiful, clever, and lethal. And maybe my protector. An irrepressible thrill ran through my circuits, and I was forced to admit it: Right then, I had never seen anyone so attractive in my life.

But a part of me rebelled absolutely. This was not glamorous, or exciting; it was _horrendous._ Steeling myself, I remained calm, and thought of Swindle; made myself believe that _no, none of this was a good thing,_ and that it was not too late to send this monster packing, and with him the rest of his 'outfit' wherever they needed to go. As I again looked straight into his optics, I tried to inject a dangerous calm into my voice.

"Swindle isn't always gonna be in your world," I said. "This is a business move for him."

But my voice wavered. Vortex shifted closer, and I was only too aware of his immense bulk, his well-put-togetherness. A delicious oily aroma combined with a rich mix of high grade and deathsticks wafted into my sensors, and heat raced through me, that thrill bounding through every circuit as I felt my interface relays shift.

I persisted, swallowing hard. "Look - I'm sure Swin's gonna be an excellent asset to you," I said. "But you're not the be all and end all. He's smart. He could go anywhere he liked, without either you or me. But he's hangin' in with me for now and I kinda like that – and I'm gonna see to it that he gets as far as he possibly can."

But his optics roved over my frame, and my circuits were still tingling, and I knew I was not having anything like the clout I intended. Vortex folded his arms and lounged against the bench, grinning lazily.

"Y'know, you really are quite paranoid aren't you?" he said. "I ain't gonna stand in his way. But you might, the way you're going. Why don't you relax a little, have a bit of fun while he does his thing?"

Vortex's extreme smexiness was suddenly suffocating. I could not look at him any more. Tearing myself away, I strode to the cooker and hauled the door open, reaching for the casserole. I did not know how, but I was going to work this thing out somehow and get us away. Maybe leave Iacon; I'd heard there were opportunities in the northern provinces.

"Does he satisfy you?" Vortex said.

Charge fritzed through my circuits. I froze, staring at the inside of the oven. "What?" I whispered. But I'd heard him perfectly.

"Swindle," he said. "When you frag. Does he satisfy you?"

I could sense him suddenly behind me. Heat radiated from him, flowing over me in waves. His hugeness, his – dangerousness – seemed to fill the whole room. "In your valve, I mean."

His smell invaded me, fiercely intoxicating, and I could feel the air from his intakes wafting on to my wings. Into my mind flashed a glorious vision of that large, hard body against mine, his hands sliding over my panels, his fingers digging in, pulling me closer as his spike pressed against me, huge and hard and throbbing. And my valve was suddenly alive – tingling, the nodes prickling with lubricants the rim opening wide behind its cover, longing to be filled because he was right. Swindle did not do this.

I shivered. Vortex laughed out loud. "I thought so!" he said. And I felt a finger - a very sensuous, slender finger – slide along the edge of my wing, microseconds before he flared his energy field.

I jolted, hard, my exoskin crackling as charge shot through me. Everything fritzed - and at that moment, all I wanted was for him to him to grab me, to take me, to shove that finger and however many others he wanted into my aching valve, closely followed by his rock hard spike; to pound hard, not stopping until every node had fired and I was consumed in overload.

I gasped, grasping the steel bars on either side of the cooker, unable to stop my energy field from flaring, sharply, as the kitchen reeled and a strangled sound came out of my vocalizer.

Vortex chuckled delightedly, as the finger was withdrawn. "I'm sure Swindle's a good spike," he said. "Not that I'd know about that of course. But you might wanna think about a little – variation – every now and then."

"Yes ..." I said, my voice thick and staticky, charge raging all over. I wanted nothing more than for him to touch me again, to feel his hands on my plating. But at that moment, there was a flurry of footsteps and metal rustling, and I turned to see Vortex take a step back as Swindle came bustling into the room.

Instantly, I was seized by a different kind of shock. A rush of coolant blocked out the heat, my interface relays shutting down in excruciating sudden-ness. As I straightened myself up and tried to look as though I had not nearly had an overload over the oilcakes, my valve closed tightly, leaving a small pool of lubricant uncomfortably inside the casing.

Swindle was all golden energy and excitement. "I been talking to Blast Off!" he declared, obviously so enthralled by this latest 'development' that he noticed nothing. "We're the go for tomorrow!" He beamed at Vortex, enthusiasm oozing from every seam. "Meeting the rep from Monacus at midday. I talked to Blast. He's on it!"

Vortex drew back and smiled appreciatively. "Good work!' he said, hooking an arm around Swindle's shoulders. Then, he turned back to me. "Like I said, he's a treasure, this one." And there he was - cool as anything. Just like nothing had happened.

Swindle was melting into him, all sparkly optics. And I was in hell! Caught in a maelstrom of diminishing charge, fritzing in frustration, but incredulous that this 'state' had happened at all. How could he be like that with Swindle when only seconds before he'd been saying the things he'd been saying, doing what he'd been doing?

And then, as unreleased charge still rippled uncomfortably around my circuits, I was angry. This_ heliformer,_ he was nothing but a complete and utter aft! This _sexiness,_ the posturing, the 'big talk, the 'danger' – he used them all to get things how he wanted them. There he was, still hugging Swindle, the rotors quivering. He was full of pit! If he wasn't screwing Swindle now, it was a matter of time before he did.

Swindle would be only too willing. And, I saw more: all that had just happened had been a decoy, a way of getting between us, a means of making sure I couldn't complain to Swindle, that I didn't interfere with his designs on my lover _or_ the grand plans for the 'outfit, whatever in hell those were.

Swin evidently noticed nothing amiss. "Say – I'm real glad you guys are getting on so well!" he said, as Vortex released him at last. "Hey Vortex, y'never know, Onslaught might have a slot for a banker some time."

Vortex grinned wickedly, his optics performing a slow and very thorough sweep of my frame. "He might at that!"

I took the casserole out and proceeded straight into the lounge with it. Quite simply, I did not trust myself to reply.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings:** Coarse and sexual language, adult themes, sexual acts of the _sticky_ variety in overall story.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story._

* * *

><p>In which Swindle is drunk, Smokescreen is tempted and Vortex is a <em>manipulative bastard...<em>

**More thanks **to the amazing **Ultharkitty** for beta-ing.

* * *

><p><strong>~~The Uninvited Guest~~<strong>

**By Ayngel**

Chapter 4

Giggling, Swindle, chewed on the end of a deathstick, which glowed brightly.

"Yeah, this guy Mixmaster was dealing in _illegal substances_ bigtime," he wittered. "So I used my ex's business to launder the money. Mate of his – yeah – they made a fortune. Everyone thought Scrapper turned into a business mech. Heheheh! But it was me all along!"

Vortex chuckled indulgently. "Way to go, Swindle!" he said, depositing his empty cube among the pile of others next to the mounds of empty platters, the remnants of our meal, now consumed. He reached for another.

"Hey, Smokey! What did I say earlier about our Swin here? He's a genius!"

I grunted, and took a sip of my own cube. The deathsticks were bad enough, though not nearly as horrendous as the way Swindle had looked at Vortex all night, hanging on his very word like a lovestuck mechalescent. Now, he was on about his ex lover Scrapper and events which nearly landed him in jail – a subject which had caused more than a few arguments and which we had both agreed was best not raised. It seemed that Vortex had succeeded not only in reducing my lover to a fawning, rambling drunken idiot but entirely reprogramming his values.

It was all made worse by the revelation that Vortex - apparently - was not only one of Onslaught's 'heavies,' he acted as a kind of 'information gatherer' for the mech. This made Swindle's disclosures not only pitiful to listen to, but stupid and dangerous. I was running short of benevolence.

"Doorwings?" The deathsticks were being offered in my direction, as Vortex' optics roved seductively over my frame. I shivered; for here was the worst part: No matter what I thought of the situation, I had not dispelled the sure knowledge - infuriatingly - of exactly what Swindle was drawn to. And I could not stop the heat from erupting periodically though my pelvis, or the tingles which ran down my thighs and shot into my valve, causing nodes not stimulated in vorns to prickle and lubricate with need.

I could not look at him. "How many times do I have to tell you," I mumbled. "I don't do those things."

"Yeah, he quit!" Swindle babbled. "He's quit millions of times. But he'll go back to them. He's like that. Once he gets hooked on something, he can't stay off it!"

"Is that so?" Vortex grinned. He raised an optic ridge at me, and his gaze lingered. "Well now that must be a darned niuisance, eh? Not wanting to do something but not being able to stop yourself from doing it!"

My lower regions tied themselves in knots again.

"I'll clear the table!" I snapped, standing up.

….

"You were saying about the Tarn deal?" Vortex's salubrious tones drifted in as I put the empties in the garbage disposal.

"We had a spot o'trouble," Swindle said. "They busted Mixmaster. He went to jail. The rest of us had to get the hell out of Tarn cos they wanted to give the records a little _unwelcome attention_. Heheh! You know what I mean!"

I heard the inevitable click of yet another deathstick being lit. "Jail, huh? _Tch tch tch!_" Vortex said. "Careless move, winding up there. Still – you did all right, you clever little slagger, didn't you? No problem when it comes to you lookin' after yourself, eh?"

My denta gritted. If only his voice did not have that infuriating, utterly arousing drawl! My interface components twinged again as the aroma of oil and high quality fuel drifted into my olfactory sensors. There was a judder in my spike as the relays transmitted readiness, and my valve spasmed and widened.

"When things went up the pit," Swindle prattled on, "we shut up shop, an' then Scrapper an' I broke up. Him an' Boney an' Longhaul went and worked in the mines and' I came to Iacon an' kept my head down. Did all right though! I had a loada dough stashed. Helped when it came to getting' this place."

"Good move! Handy mech to have around, aren't you?"

I shuddered. There was no doubt that Vortex was far from the dumbaft I'd first thought. But the likeness to a cybercat extended also to his intelligence: cold, calculating and deadly. It was small wonder Onslaught employed him for what he did, and whatever the interest in Swindle's past, there was dark method, reason.

Worse, this only added more layers to the infuriating attractiveness. Now fresh prickles of dread were infused with even greater arousal.

But I felt a new rush of fresh ire at the subject of _Swindle's place_. As if all which had so far transpired was not enough! Did he have to humiliate me on top of it again with_ this?_ But it was hopeless. There was no point in saying anything on com. Swindle would only ignore it. Just like he'd pretty much ignored everything I'd said or done all night.

They were quiet for a few moments. I looked at the mound of empty cubes. If only Vortex would leave! How much had he drunk? Surely enough that he would surely need to recharge soon, even if the effects of his indulgence did hardly show. I had lost track of the time, but I knew it was late.

Yes, I had to just _ride this out_ for a while longer, I told myself. Then I could whisk Swindle away. My interface components tingled again, and my spike twinged too this time; then suddenly the answer was simple. Yes - my pent up charge would be expended on _Swindle,_ drunk or not drunk. Hadn't spiking him good and hard satisfied me up to now?

Ah yes, and my spike was getting nice and hard. By the time I'd finished, I wouldn't need quivering rotors and other big spikes, and Swindle would be looking at all of this in a whole new light. Inspired, I ran a hand over my heated codpiece, focusing on the tranfer of sensation away from my valve. It worked; and as my spike bulged against the codpiece seam, I kept my hand in place, allowing myself a few seconds of the pleasure of being turned on, in the sure knowledge that relief was soon to come.

In the lounge, there was silence, followed by a short shriek and Swindle erupting in a burst of giggles. "Ooohh … nice!" he squealed.

My pleasure ended abruptly. I scooted to the lounge, where I froze in the doorway: Swindle lolled in the chair, still laughing, an expression on his face which could only mean one thing.

Vortex looked up at me with a sheepish grin, innocence etched into his optics. "It was only a little flare …" he said.

So he did want Swindle. And now it was openly on display! I felt myself flush with anger. "I'd prefer if you were going to _do it_, that it wasn't in my loungeroom!" I snarled.

Vortex managed to import a look of great disappointment on to his faceplates.

"Oh come on doorwings!" he said. "I'm just having fun. Don't be such a party pooper!"

"Yeah! Lighten up!" Swindle giggled foolishly. "It's my loungeroom, remember? I can do what I like!"

I glared at both of them. "Well I'd be obliged if you'd keep your energy fields to yourselves!" I snapped, much less angry than I should have been and trying not to make obvious that I was dizzy with heat and and my valve again throbbed wildly, just at the _thought_ of such a flare being directed at me.

…

A little later, I'd consumed two cubes in rapid sucession and felt a little better, having ignored Vortex's knowing smile. Swindle, however, was starting to look decidedly the worse for wear. He sprawled at the table, his optics misty. There'd been no more flirtations, but he was back to rambling. We'd now moved on to his 'early years.'

"I grew up in Tarn, _ac - chooally!"_ he ground out slowly. "My creators come from there. But they're _shlaggers!_ They ain't even really my _cree-aytors."_

Picking up his cube, he took a loud slurp. "Yeah, I'm not one o'them! I got _Alpha_ pwo-gwamm-ing, Vortex – one side – thass why I'm thish colour, see? Why should I stay in a hole like Tarn with a loadda fraggin' loo-shers?"

I picked up the latest empty cubes, noting that whilst he was listening, Vortex perhaps didn't look quite as interested as he had earlier. His optics kept flickering in my direction as Swindle was talking. A ray of hope appeared. He wasn't _storing_ that info. And he might go soon. Good! Because I wanted him to do that.

Didn't I?

Vortex was looking up at me, a sly grin on his face. "This gets better and better!" he chuckled. "There you go, Smokey! You hang with this guy, you'll be living in the Towers one day. If he keeps you around, that is!"

The soporific effect of the high grade stopped me from biting. Ignoring him, I took the last few cubes into the kitchen, dumping them loudly in the trash beside the others. Meanwhile, Swindle gave a loud hiccough.

"I got a _sshh … cholarship_ in Sale. That was a shlaggin' dump n' all! But mechs there hadn't_ been around! _Whereas I had. Yeah! I'd_ been around_ Vortex! That was my firsht _big haul_. At that _shlaggin' college_."

As I came back into the room, Swindle put his cube down on the table heavily. High grade slopped from it. He put his head on his arm. "Awwwww …. p-pittt …I'm ….pished …" he stammered! "Don't feel the bessht! Wanna liddle resht …"

Vortex pushed his chair back and stretched his legs out. He raised an optic ridge. "Think it might be berthybise time!" he said.

Swindle did not move. His optics shuttered, and there was the rasp of heavy intaking. Energon dripped from the table on to his knee, then trickled down to drip into a growing pool on the floor.

Vortex looked at the pool, then at Swindle, then back at me. Smoke trailed upwards from the deathstick glowing in his long fingers as he sucked on it sensuously. I tried not to look at his codpiece, which formed a much too impressive bump on his lap. He grinned.

"Well, doorwings! Looks like your _love interest_ wiped himself out! And you look kinda – tired – there! I reckon a little _relaxation_ would go down well , don't you?" He grinned. "Why don't we 'wrap it up' for the night and have a lie down together? Just the three of us ... _snuggly_ - y'know?"

Swindle must have heard, somehow. Because a little giggle came from his slumped form, and he shivered . "Yeah, nice ... lesh all go an' do that!" He said. Then he seemed to melt on to the table.

Vortex' optics were on me. He moved, sitting up and opening his legs wider in a way which inevitably enhanced the codpiece, as his rotors fanned out and quivered.I looked away and shifted uncomfortably, as my valve spasmed with new intensity. The ache in my lower regions was suddenly almost unbearable as heat ripped through my core._ Holy Primus! A_ little voice said, _not the three of you, just the two of you_!

But Swindle moved, letting out a sigh, and Vortex looked at him suggestively. "Ooh yeah! Reckon somebody ougtta clean the energon off that knee!"

So he still wanted Swindle! I was furious again. "It _is_ 'berthybise' time for _him!" _I snapped. Trying to keep the 'huskiness ' from my voice. _"Just_ him."

A knowing grin spread over Vortex's face. He snickered, folding his rotors together and then extending them again with excuciating sensuality. I managed to keep my optics from them, and from the equally infuriatingly handsome faceplates and the rest of his anatomy. Stooping down, I picked Swindle up and hoisted him on to my shoulder. Without even a glance at Vortex, I carried him to the berth room.

...

I sat on the berth, looking at Swindle laying there. Maybe I should just climb on beside him, leave Vortex on his own in the lounge? Devoid of entertainment, he would surely leave ...

But I was not going to do that. The mere thought was almost unbearable. How could I? My lower regions were on fire, my valve ached with a throbbing longing to be filled. Without any prompting, a fantasy arose_: ... face down across the table ... he is in me ... hard, huge, painful, relentless ... the table scritching across the floor as he does me so hard ..._

I nearly whimpered. No, I could not leave him out there. And it had nothing to do with the feeble excuse I was giving myslef: that Vortex was a criminal, and if I left him alone he'd likely strip the apartment of valuables. It was because I could not risk the possibility of his departure._  
><em>

There was the sound of movement in the lounge, a whiff of oil and high grade. _Oh frag!_ A sharp burst of charge ripped through me, and fluid washed into my valve. I felt my face flush, as I was unable to stop my energy field from emitting a sizeable flare.

Swindle gave a shiver, and a little smile appeared on his faceplates. Then he rearranged himself, letting out a sigh as he settled back into recharge. My spark twisted. I did love him! For a few astroseconds I almost forgot Vortex as I was consumed by a great tenderness.

_"Smokey?"_ Vortex called. "Snuggles with Swin?" But oh Primus I wanted my valve filled so badly. Love warred with lust. _That voice,_ another whiff of oil. His hot throbbing body and rotors and spike ...

Lust was winning ...

I looked at Swindle. _Not with Swin,_ I murmured. Leaning over, I kissed his cheek and he squirmed contentedly. "It doesn't mean I don't love you, Swin!" I whispered. And meant it.

…

I was back in the lounge; and now I knew I should be wrapped around Swindle, cuddling him tight, making it so there was no room in the Universe for anyone except us.

Vortex cracked another cube and passed it to me. I felt strangely shy, now, alone with him. But I took the drink. It would be rude to not have it with him, wouldn't it? Yes - that was why I took it. Not because I was my insides were churning, or my sensor net prickling like a mechalescent on a first hot date.

Vortex stood up. He stretched, his rotors fanning and performing a slow revolution. He was huge, his essence all consuming. I melted. He was, quite simply, magnificent! He stretched again; and although he did not look at me, I was _sure_ I could sense arousal in him, feel his interface components priming. He wanted me! Now my valve was really open, the nodes sparking as all through my pelvis erotic zones activated and intense pleasure rippled through my circuits. The cover over my valve shuddered, begging for a command to open.

In the back of my processor, a voice chided me, for changing my tune so completely just because my valve needed a service, and most of all for Swindle. But I pushed the voice out. I _needed __this!_ Besides, I now justified, _Swindle_ wanted this from Vortex - and he may well get it_! Swindle would understand._

I waited, growing hot, sensation radiating to my core, as charge built within me like a tide, a deluge which would end the frustration. Any second now, he would set me on fire with a red opticed stare and flare his energy field. The ecstatic encounter would begin.

But it didn't. Instead, he moved over to the mirror and regarded himself critically with his hands on his hips, the rotors again gliding slowly round.. "Think I might check out Iacon nightlife," he said. His reflection grinned at me. "You're right - snuggles are out. I'm in the mood for a little _energy release_. Lets see now …. maybe something _big_, with wings and thrusters_ ..."  
><em>

He had not just said that. I _could not_ have heard him right! Could he not see I was burning, scintillating in readiness? And besides - he wanted _me!_ "But w-what you said about needing some – variety ..." I stammered, the words barely discernible above the static. "I'm thinking ... you're right, Vortex ... and I can help you with the - uh - _release_."

But he turned to face me, his lips twisted in a mocking smile.

"Well now - you seem to be jumping the gun a little!" he said, his voice smooth as platinum tailings. "I suggested, yeah, that you had some variety. I didn't say _I_ was gonna provide it!" He looked reproachful. "What about Swindle? Not a very nice thing to do with him lying there offline, now is it? I thought you guys had a _thing_ going?"

I was filled with that same incredulity as I had felt in the kitchen after he'd touched my wing. And then, as before, with a boiling anger. This _was_ about Swindle - and playing me! I had been right all along. And oh what I fool, what a gullible, pitiful fool I was, because surely, after earlier, _I should have known._

But I was determined he would not see my humiliation. So even though my entire systems were simmering, my valve was still smarting, I rose with as much dignity as I could muster.

"Yeah – uh - very sensible! " I croaked. "Dunno what I was – uh – saying. I'm gonna turn in with Swindle. Because you're right, we have got a thing. And I don't want anything messing that up!"

He chuckled, finishing his cube, an amused glint in his optics. "Yeah," he said. "Me neither. Couldn't agree more. Can't afford to upset Swin. _Business,_ eh?"

_ You're a vain, despicable, sadistic aft!_ I was wanting to yell. I wanted to run into the berthroom, grab one of Swindle's brand new rifles and run back in and let fire, watch his black form crumple as he writhed in agony, mumbling out an apology!

My faceplates must have said it all. Vortex's casual demeanour changed, and he gave me a _look;_ It was dangerous, a clear warning; laced with a ruthlessness which made any possibility of violence against him seem feeble, pitiful, and leading to only one end result. An icy chill whipped through my circuits; yet the power of it thrilled me - all the more because I was certain that embroidered within was still the faint twinge of desire.

I found myself thinking, against all semblance of logic: _There's hope ...  
><em>

And I wanted there to be hope. Even though I chided myself for my patheticness, I did not want Vortex to walk away and out of my life. "Fine!" I said coldly. "I'll deactivate the security door. You know the way out!"

"Sure do!"

He started to amble over to the doorway, where he paused. "Do me a favour would you? See to it Swin ain't late tomorrow!" he grinned. "It's a big day. And hey – get some rest yourself!"

My mouth fell open, to say ... well I know not what. It is accurate to say that at that point, words failed me. But he was gone, anyway; clanking down the stairs. Furious, I flicked the security switch hard, and heard the sound of the downstairs door opening and closing, followed by footsteps and transformation noises outside.

Then my anger bubbled over and I slammed the appartment door with a bang which shook the whole building.

As the roar of a powerful engine sounded, accompanied by the loud _thwop thwop_ of rotors cutting through the still night air, I grabbed the cube from the table and threw the contents down.

It was as well, I reflected, as the noise began to fade, that despite the volumes drunk that night there was still plenty more where this came from.

I was going to need it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings:** Coarse and sexual language, adult themes, sexual acts of the _sticky_ variety throughout story.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story._

* * *

><p>On with their dilemma the next day ...<p>

Many thanks to all who have reviewed and listed, here and on LJ. Your envuragement is much appreciated!_  
><em>

**Special thanks **to the amazing **Ultharkitty** for more beta-ing and fantastic help.

* * *

><p><strong>~~The Uninvited Guest~~<strong>

**By Ayngel**

**Chapter Five**

I lay in our berth, listening to Swindle purge his tanks for the fourth time. I'd awoken to his unwell looking face on the pillow, and been instantly filled with concern. But when I'd tried to stroke it, he'd gulped and put his hand over his mouth and, struggling out of the berth, made a dive for the washrack.

It was the opposite of romantic. But I blamed myself. How could I have just sat there and let everything which happened last night just happen? Why had I not just sent the heliformer packing before he even came in? Instead, he had had a good time at my expense and insulted us both. And I had let both of us down.

And I hardly felt marvellous myself, I reflected as my own tanks churned, testament to my own consumption of most of our remaining supply of high grade in an attempt to dull the uncomfortable frustration left by Vortex's despicable departure. The only reason I wasn't purging myself was my long experience of overindulgence, thanks to a rebellious and mis-spent mecholescence.

But I felt a twang of triumph. Swindle hadn't mentioned his 'meeting' yet. And I wasn't going to remind him of it.

My spark lifted at the thought of Vortex 'hanging around' somewhere, and Swindle failing to turn up. Onslaught would be furious, I was certain, and so would the others. They would decide, after all, that Swindle 'didn't have what it took,' that he wasn't what they had hoped for. They'd 'let him go' and then we could carry on as we had before their miserable influence disrupted our lives.

Besides, Swindle was not nearly well enough to go on some gangster excapade! The sound of more coughing and spluttering from the washroom sent a particularly protective surge through my spark. This became even stronger as the spluttering turned to choking and a garbled cry issued forth.

"Smokescreen …."

I was out of the berth, and in there immediately. Swindle's vents had clogged before when he'd purged, a slight deficiency with his prototype – something to do with the alpha side of his programming – and I knew what I had to do.

"Swin!" Grabbing hold of him, I pushed him under the shower and held him firmly.

Pulling a hose from the wall, I refined the jet to a thin spray which I played into his intakes, dislodging the regurgitated high grade exudate.

"Can't get air!" Swindle wailed, trembling. He clung to me, his intakes huffing in sharp gasps.

"Hold still Swin, take it easy!" I said.

Gradually, the trembling subsided, and Swindle began to intake more evenly. His grip loosened, and he leaned against me, heaving, all warm metal and need. Exudates trickled away through the drain in the floor. I put the hose back and wrapped my arms around him.

"Smokey!" he groaned as his systems evidently returned to more normal functioning. "Oh mech, I feel like the pit! I really overdid it last night, didn't I?"

I held him tightly, kissing his helm. For a few moments there was just us, and I pulled him to me, my spark burning, wanting it to stay just like this, for there never to be anything which would tempt me or come between us again. But, as was typical, Swindle pulled away.

Staggering over to the berth, he fell on it. "Oh pit. I made a real coghead out of myself last night. Didn't I?" he groaned.

...

I sat next to him, running my fingers soothingly up and down his arm. "You didn't really make a fool of yourself," I lied, "Vortex kept drinking and you joined in, that's all."

In my processor, the 'plan' blossomed. "You just wanted to impress him, Swin!" I went on. "I think you kinda felt you had to keep up; I mean, Vortex can certainly put it away, and you'd expect that, given his prototype. But for you – your systems can only take so much …."

And then, I let him have it. "And that's typical of _types like him!_!" I growled. "They get a kick out of seeing other mechs get in the pit, and then they go off laughing. Shallow, callous show-offs, that's what they are. Really not worth the trouble!"

But it didn't have the desired effect. Swindle wasn't listening. Instead, he was hauling himself up. "Oh pit! I gotta meet him, don't I?" he groaned, his optics wide and alarmed.

I clutched his arm and tried to get him to look at me. "Listen, Swin!" I whispered. "You don't have to dance to his tune. Why don't you just _stay here?"_

But he shook me off, and was already headed determinedly into the washroom. "Are you kidding?" He said. "This is my biggest job yet. Pit, Smoke! I ain't gonna let a slaggin' hangover get in the way of this!"

I heard the cabinet door open, followed by the sound of him rifling through the contents.

"Pit!" I muttered. Getting up, I went to the washroom door and leaned against the doorjamb, watching as Swindle pulled out a jar full of oblong capsules – a fairly potent hangover recovery remedy and stimulant – and extracted two of them. He looked at them in his palm for a second before throwing them down and swallowing hard. Then he studied himself critically in the mirror.

"Awwww, Sigma! Why didn't you wake me earlier?" Grabbing a cloth and some cleaner, he hastily polished his windscreen, which was still streaked from the shower. Then I watched as he grabbed a tin of his favourite 'Special Dark Feature Wax' and started smearing it on to his faceplates.

"Swin …" I began. But he wasn't listening. "Primus Almighty!" he said, peering into the mirror.

"Look - you don't look that bad …."

"Are you blind?"

Grimacing, he hastily buffed his face. Then he opened an arm compartment, from which he extracted a small vial of purple fluid. I watched as he applied it liberally to his optics.

A despairing pain crept through my systems. "Swindle, you don't have to do this!" I croaked. "I think Vortex might be - well - not all he cracks himself up to be."

But even as I said it, a vision of the powerful form with the quivering rotors and superb anatomy sprang up in my processor, vivid with erotic scents and magnetic red optics. I shivered at the memory of the thrilling danger as the deep Kaon drawl resonated in my audio recall.

And as if to confirm the feebleness of my evaluation, Swindle laughed out loud. "Don't be ridiculous!" he said. "Vortex is like – _awesome._ He's practically the _main mech_in Kaon!"

A sparkly grin flashed across my lover's face as he finished his refurbishments and swept past me into the berth room. Clearly, his hangover was fading fast. I felt a sharp twang of anger at the exhuberent appraisal of the heliformer's attributes. Obviously Swindle's 'recovery' was all due to the prospect of _Vortex's_company!

Memories of the night before came flooding back: the fawning expression on Swindle's face; Vortex's gushing compliments; Vortex touching him at every opportunity; his obvious delight at being touched. And then, to top it all off, _that energy flare._Not to mention the proposed 'snuggles!'

Swindle was crouching down beside the berth. I watched angrily as he pulled out a small box; then there were clicking sounds – the keying in of the codes to this, his personal safe. He emerged with a fistful of credits and beamed up at me.

"Thought I'd take a bit of cash in hand. Dunno if Vortex had it in mind we'd head on to Itopis after we've taken care of this." Stuffing them in an arm compartment, he shoved the box back under the bed.

Something in me snapped. "You're screwing him, aren't you?" I snarled before I could stop myself.

Swindle froze. Then he stood up slowly, and turned to me. He looked ... _surprised._But then his expression turned sour, his optics glittering.

"No! I'm not!" he snapped. His optics narrowed. "Y'know- I knew you were gonna come out with some scrap like this! You carried on like a right jerk all last night, Smokey! What the pit is the matter with you? I'm just tryin'a advance my career!"

But the implied notion that everything was just fine only riled me further. "That's only half true, isn't it?" I yelled. "You _want_ to fuck him! It was etched all over your faceplates, Swindle! And as for him - he could hardly keep his hands off!"

"No!" a furious yellow form was in front of me, optics blazing, a black finger pointing. "NO! Don't you dare accuse me o' that, Smokey! I saw how you were lookin' at him. I could practically see the steam from the other side of the room!"

So he had noticed? Well it wasn't the point! "I wasn't!" I bawled. "I was just – sussing him out!" But my voice had lost conviction.

We glared at each other, my spark burning with furious jealousy, his optics bright purple with indignation. Then, Swindle sighed.

"Look, Smokey, I don't blame you," he said, reaching out and laying a hand on my arm. "Half of Cybertron wants Vortex in their pelvic armour!"

But I shook him off. "I am not half of Cybertron!" I shouted.

Swindle let out an exasperated sigh. "Look – all right. I ain't gonna lie to ya!" he said. "I've thought about it – OK? But Vortex is actually quite - selective - believe it or not! He may give me the odd little hug, that doesn't mean I could fuck him - hell - he touches up all kinds'a mechs! Besides, as I keep tellin' ya, it's _business,_me an' him. I'm sure he'd say just the same!"

"Oh yeah, I can imagine …" I began, intending to say once and for all exactly what I thought of the business, Vortex's 'selectivity,' everything! But the memory of the heliformer's words came back to me: _"I suggested you had some variety. I didn't say I was gonna provide it ..."_

I was forced - uncomfortably - to admit that what Swindle was suggesting did seem to have a gain of truth.

And Swindle was looking at me fiercely again. The type of look which suggested if I didn't pull my head in over this and stop being ridiculous, there could be consequences. What if - my spark twisted - _he threatened to leave?_

"Yeah, well ... Vortex – uh – yeah, he did say someting along those lines," I muttered.

He was nodding. "Yeah - so don't start accusing me to cover up for the fact that you're just like the rest of the groupies, Smokey! Vortex just looks after me. OK?"

I nodded. There was a pause, and then a hurt expression came over Swindle's faceplates. "Look - I love ya, Smoke! OK?" he said. "I just want you to have a little - trust."

I deflated inside. I felt like a fool. I had acted like a groupie – heck – how could I even think of criticizing after the way I'd behaved, after what I'd intended to do. I should have been standing by my lover. Not sulking in a jealous rage or, worse still, trying to nab Vortex myself. I should be happy that Swindle's associate was the irresistible 'main mech of Kaon,' content in the knowledge that he reserved his attentions only for 'the worthy.'

"Swindle... I look after you!" I whispered. "I love you too."

He laid a hand on my arm and patted, his face softening. "I know," he said. "And you're my special mech. Right?"

I reached for my lover, wanting to pull him to me, to tell him that I would always be there, that he didn't need Vortex, that neither of us needed the heliformer in our lives, or the rest of his cronies; that they did and only ever could bring nothing but trouble for us. But Swindle was gone, already nearly at the door.

"Look I'll call you. OK?" he said, pausing. "You get some rest, Smokey. You look like the pit."

He gave me one last little smile - the type of Swindle smile which was guaranteed to melt my spark - and was gone. I heard his footsteps clank down the steps, the door open downstairs.

I leaned against the wall, shuttering my optics as Swindle's own special transformation noises floated up and I heard the soft whirr of his engine as he sped away, so different from the heavy thwop thwop of rotors.

Being 'looked after' by Vortex. It was so much worse than anything else they could have been doing.

"Frag you Vortex!" I shouted out loud.

…..

I sat miserably on the couch. The holovision warbled from the other room - some interactive gambling games show, one to which I would normally have given my attention and maybe even played along. But I hardly noticed it. Instead, I took a swig from the cube and lit another death stick, ignoring the mountain of empty cubes on the table, the dish overflowing with expended sticks.

I did not know why I was even indulging. It was not making things any better. On the contrary, the intoxicants seemed only to compound the thoughts about Swindle and Vortex which swirled around my processor like a nightmarish kaleidoscope.

It had been over a cycle since Swindle's departure, and I hadn't heard from him at all. And part of me now worried, dreadfully. What if Vortex hadn't 'taken care of' him? What if some disgruntled 'client' had carried out revenge? What if Swindle, alone and afraid, had found himself outsmarted, unaided and overwhelmed because _that heliformer, for_ all his _big talk,_ had failed to come to his aid?

After all, they weren't lovers or anything like that. Swindle was no doubt fully expendable.

_I just like his mind …_

I bit down hard on the _stick,_ then, full of angry thoughts towards Vortex, remembering his cool manner, smooth talk and vanity. This was, I was certain, what had happened. For all his 'main mechliness,' Vortex had ultimately failed Swindle at his moment of need.

But then it was as though a switch flicked my mind to a different channel; and all those attentions they had given each other would sweep past like some horror holovision. And despite Swindle's assurances, I remembered again his rapt responses to Vortex's gleaming enthusiasm, the 'closeness' which seemed to be between them.

And I could not help it - I envisaged them on Itopis at some luxury abode, in a jacuzzi, a satisfied grin on the heliformer's face as 'extra special Swindle treatment' was applied – this time without the annoying interference of his new business partner's lover or the need to stop at a mere 'rotor massage.'

And Onslaught and the others would probably look on with approval!

Seething, I ground out the death stick on the pile. Then I grabbed another cube, ripping the top of with a loud _crack. _No, Swindle had hoodwinked me, I was certain! They _were _'at it!'

Well I would just go get Swindle's stuff and hurl it into the street below, pin a message on the door with huge letters saying: _it's over. You made your berth, now lie in it! Don't ever speak to me!_

I savoured the high grade as it burned a path to my energon chamber. Yes! Then I could get on with my life. Both of them would be out of it forever!

But of course, such thoughts evaporated as I remembered the hurt and innocence in Swindle's optics, and I thought of his sweet scented golden panels, of how much he had 'needed' me earlier. My spark twisted, and the switch flicked back again. It was hard for him, this struggle to reconcile his love for me with loyalty to his new 'associate.' He was only trying to do the best all round.

And then, I hated Vortex again; for using my lover as he so obviously was, for forcing himself unashamedly into our lives, for wrecking our relationship for his own selfish, twisted, egotistical means.

Incensed, I rose and paced, thoughts of how I was going to somehow _do_ something to Vortex whirling through my processor. Surely it was not impossible. I may only be a bank mech, but I was not a puny physical specimen. Could I not 'look after myself' quite adequately?

And - I had contacts. Yes! I was a Praxan, a _Datsun_ – and my cousin Prowl was winner of this year's 'most promising new police officer' award. I'd get Vortex sent to jail – yes – that's what I'd do! For a long time! They hated confined spaces, those heliformer types, Prowl had said. It would be a horrible fate, in keeping with Vortex's own despicable love of violence and the sorry demise of his victims.

But I shuddered instantly at this prospect, remembering the calculating, cybercat type cleverness, the warnings of what would happen if I _interfered._ And I may have been ignorant about gangsters; but I knew that 'dobbing them in' – would be worthy of the utmost reprisal.

Most of all, I remembered that last look Vortex had given me, and shivered. There was no doubt that Vortex would finish both of us; and no secret smexual thrill accompanied this knowledge, only sickening dread. My last vision would be Swindle's dead body and the gun use to kill him pointing at me; my last memory that it was all my fault.

Finishing the cube, I chucked it on the pile and sat down again.

In the next room, the holovision set burbled on, blending with the sounds from outside of late in the cycle, of flyers and grounders pulling in and transformation noises; the opening and closing of doors as mechs returned home. It all marked just another set of breems in which Swindle had failed to appear.

I put my head in my hands, staving off the growing depression. Perhaps if I thought about it all just one more time I could figure something out ...

* * *

><p><em>Alas poor Smokey! Thank you for reading. next chapter soon!<em>


	6. Chapter 6

**Warnings:** This chapter contains VERY explicit, sticky sex acts (consensual) between mechanical beings, with all the accompanying language.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story._

**Notes** The last chapter in this part of the Swindle/Smokey saga. But it does not end here! **ultharkitty**has not only betad this story and helped me enormously with it, but has written a story herself about what happens next. Yes! *squees* and its awesome. Coming up soon.

Then there's more about this angsty, problem ridden but thoroughly adorable relationship to follow :D

* * *

><p><strong>~~The Uninvited Guest~~<strong>

**By Ayngel**

**Chapter 6  
><strong>

Through the dim maze of corridors, I pursued Swindle relentlessly. My footsteps echoed hollowly as, in the dream, another scene played out, the same as the one before, and I stared into a wide draughty corridor, exactly like the last.

At the other end stood Swindle, his panels glinting in the faint light as he stared around in confusion.

"Swin!" I started towards him.

"Smokey …" He started towards me, and I shared the surge of relief which showed on his faceplates. But the air shimmered and the walls shook as the roar of a powerful engine resounded, accompanied by an all too familiar _thwop thwop _…

"Swindle!" But it was too late. Vortex swept over me, and I was thrown to the floor, blown over like a cyberfly in the approach of a swatter.

I struggled against the mighty rotor wind, craning my neck up and crying out - but it was no good. A hatch opened, and Swindle leaped gleefully aboard the heliformer, my miserable, ground bound, crawling form forgotten.

There was a roar as Vortex took off; and then Swindle's delightful cackling rang out as they passed over my head, "Just looking after him … you don't seem too good at that …." Came Vortex's mocking drawl as they headed away.

Struggling to my feet I ran, stumbling after them, only to freeze as I rounded the next bend. For there they stood in a passionate embrace, Vortex kissing Swindle, his hands molding around my lover's form, gliding over panels. I watched, helpless, as Swindle's hands grabbed at rotors and he strained into the kiss; and that was when I lost it.

There was a heavy metal object in my hands. I looked down to see one of Swindle's new automatic rifles.

I did not hesitate. With an audio-shattering blast of fire, I let fly, riddling my lover and his 'colleague' with dents and holes as bullets pinged off their bodies. "Die! Liars! Traitors!" I bawled.

But they dissolved, evaporating into a black and yellow whorl of particles. They hung, suspended; then with a burst of wild, cackling laughter, exploded into nothingness.

I was alone as the sounds died. "Swindle!" I yelled. "SWINDLE …."

…..

"Smokey. _Smokey!_ Wake up, wake up, _wake up! _I'm here!"

I was being shaken. My olfactory sensors ghosted online and I caught the unmistakeable whiff of Swindle's paint. I clutched at the arm shaking me and hung on. "I killed you!" I yelled. "Oh Primus I killed you. I couldn't stand you with him like that, but I never meant it! I love you, Swindle!"

His voice was distant, but I had onlined enough to discern more than a trace of amusement. "Smokey? What are you talkin' about? I'm here! And I ain't dead. Mech – what is goin' on with your _head?"_

A few more systems came online; and now the aroma of fresh wax flowed from the warm throbbing body which clambered over to straddle my hips. I prized open my partially onlined optics to see a familiar yellow form perched there. Purple optics glistened, and Swindle's face spilt into a grin as he shook his head.

"So that's it! Toxic dream - and you say I can't handle the stuff. Well, I thought as much! You reek of high grade like you've been drinking it since I've been gone! "

I calmed myself, taking comfort from the firm 'aliveness' of the body above me, relieved in a way one can only be relieved upon discovery that a horrible event is not real. As the dream images faded, I preformed a quick evaluation. My toxicity levels were, indeed, too high, testified also by the throbbing in my head.

Then, I was embarrassed. How pathetic was I? And how hypocritical, especially after the way I'd complained about Swindle's 'state' before he left.

"Nargghhhh!" I managed, my systems rapidly trying to configure to normal functioning. "I just – got worried about you." Which was partially true.

Swindle gave a little chuckle. Then I felt soft warm hands on my chassis, pressure squirming against my hipos and codpiece as Swindle gyrated and metal screeched. When he spoke again, his voice was thick and husky.

"Smokey I want you. Like – _I really want you!"_

I hardly had time to think. The scent of wax was suddenly all around; skilled fingers felt into my grill, traced the end bars and ghosted over my headlamps. I shivered as the touch moved to my shoulder tyres, the soft rubber indenting with the squeeze of his fingers as he ground into my pelvis.

And suddenly everything was fully online, charge zinging through my circuits as my interface relays configured, fast. The dream was a receding memory. And having Swindle was the _best_prospect I'd ever had.

His valve cover was against my codpiece, warm and throbbing, and as the last vestiges of the dream winked out, he pressed down, his energy field flaring, its force ripping through me. Then my spike was pressurizing, hot and throbbing, begging for release; and there was nothing in the universe but screwing the aft off him.

He wriggled back on to my legs, his intakes hissing. Hands stroked the seams of my codpiece and he looked at me, his optics burning into mine. Then his head dipped and my spike bulged, huge, as I felt his mouth rove. "Open," he gasped, his voice thick with static. "I need you to open!"

I did not take much persuasion.

"Oh yeah!" Swindle's intakes came in gasps as he closed his hand around my spike shaft, and then ran his fingers lightly up and down. His hot exhalations wafted warmly on the tip. I cried out as sensations raced tingling up my circuits to my core, where the charge fired with a burst of heat and flare of my energy field.

Swindle went rigid, groaning. "Smokey, fuck me!" Then he was back over my hips, his valve rim pressed against my spike, his hands on my chest. "No problem …" I rasped.

He raised his hips and then lowered himself, we moaned in unison as my spike slid into his valve, the ridges sliding perfectly into grooves, filling and lubricated and slick. The tip struck Swindle's end plate and he cried out, arching back.

"Frag! I love fucking you!" he cried hoarsely, grabbing handfuls of my bumper and twisting metal in his ecstasy.

…

It did not last long. Swindle thrust on to me in hard, rhythmic strokes, ensuring my spike pounded against his end plate. Metal clanged on metal, lubricant flowed, sweet and acrid. I thrust in deeper, harder. As his ceiling node began to spark, Swindle screamed, forcing himself down and quickening his pace.

"Frag, Swindle, you're hot!" I loved the feel of filling him. All the nodes and grooves swelled, feeding charge straight to my core and making me harder than I'd ever been. My own valve nodes prickled at the pleasure I was giving him.  
>Metal clanged, I bucked up as he shoved down, ramming in hard. I could sense his arousal build, feel the strength of his charge as my energy gathered. I knew that a flare of my field would probably send him over, but I hung on, enjoying the agony of anticipation.<p>

And then, whimpering, shivering, he forced himself down, making my spike plumb deep as his valve tightened around it. I could not hold on; my field flared.

"All right!" Swindle yelled, "Frag yeah, yeah!" And then he screamed, as his valve clenched in a series of rhythmic spasms. Overload burst through him and my grill bard bent in his clasp, as he went on screaming ...

The force of his overload tore through me, as his valve contracted hard six, seven times. But I held off my own overload, loving seeing him come like that, allowing my charge to soar up and hover in an exquisite agony of want. I knew he would go again, almost immediately and, sure enough, as he finished his climax and collapsed on top of me, I felt his energy field prickle, his charge already rising afresh.

Then my spark swelled with emotion. "I missed you, Swin," I gasped. It was the first thing which came to me, and I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight, my mouth against his faceplates, shivering with the strength of how much I felt for him.

He was perched up over me again. He throbbed, his systems giving off the hum of rising charge. His optics sparkled, a deep indigo. "Oh yeah, I really missed you!" he said. "You gotta fuck me some more! Like in the past. Like you did the first time we did it. Remember?"

…..

The first time we did it ….

Swindle squirming under me on the table in the spare office as I thrust into him, having wanted to fuck him so badly now for so long that I'd hardly been able to contain myself. His hands had grabbed at me, his legs wrapping around as I thrust in.

The noise from the lending section of the Bank of Iacon had wafted through my audials; but I'd been past caring who heard or came in. I'd taken Swindle, spiking him, gloriously penetrating where I'd so needed to penetrate. I had lost control; so had he. In a few wild thrusts we had climaxed together.

At the last moment I had remembered where we were and clapped a hand on his mouth to stifle his howl of completion, as I bit into his neck to mute my own.

Now, my spike was as huge as then with unreleased charge, pushing up into Swindle as he ground himself on to it with comparable enthusiasm.

In the back of my processor, a little voice asked perhaps not so pleasant questions: _why does he want me so much? What the hell has gotten him so horny?_ And worse: _who does he really want to fuck?_

But I dismissed them, charge now burning, too urgently needing a release to pay too much heed. Besides, I smugly thought back: whatever had happened, Swindle obviously hasn't _had it._From anybody! Whereas he most certainly was going to 'get it' from me now!

"Smokey … for frags sake we gotta do it!" he rasped, grabbing me round the neck and pulling me over sideways.

"Yeah ….!" I went with him, feeling my spike penetrate deeper as I rolled on to him. His engine revved and his body throbbed as he wrapped around me, his arms tight around my neck, his heels digging into my back. He squirmed, and I kissed him, hungrily seeking his mouth, probing my glossa deep.

His valve clenched, throbbing and wet, fluid spilling around my spike, charge ripped up through my core. The urge to thrust was excruciating; but there was more. My own valve moistened, the cover retracting. And suddenly I _just had_to know how it was having my spike in his valve.

You might wanna think about a little variation now and then ...  
>Heat exploded through me as I groped Swindle's pelvic armour for his regular interface panel.<p>

He broke the kiss and squirmed sideways to give me access. "Oh yeah, plug me in!" he rasped, his hands on the edges of my doorwings, making me shiver. "I want us connected, Smoke! Yeah! Fuck me while we're connected."

His panel slid open. I grabbed the sparking connector, plunging it up into my now aching, open port. A storm of sparks crackled, blue; then I was bearing down on him, his metal against mine and my spike deep inside as I moaned, feeling him deeply, feeling him feeling me completely and fully.

"Smoke …" Swindle moaned, tilting his head back and shuttering his optics. My circuits simmered with charge; yet still I held off the urge to fuck him like crazy. Instead, I kissed him deeply again, hooking one arm around his helm and sliding the other hand down his side panels. He moaned and shuddered, pushing up, his hands grabbing my inside wing edges , his legs locked around my waist.

"Oh Swin …" I moaned into his mouth as I began to move us in rhythm.

...

I controlled us, going slowly at first. Swindle cried out, opening his legs, and then wrapping them tighter, pulling me down, bucking, grinding up in a circular motion. Oily scents combined with lubricant infused the air as his valve opened wider, deep and warm and sticky. Heat radiated as we moved, red hot squealing metal permeated by the hum of rising charge.

I floated in the ecstasy of complete arousal.

But the slow, sensual indulgence only lasted a short while. I could feel Swindle's seething need, and my charge soared again, pushing the need for release to breaking point.

Swindle felt it. "Now do me!" he demanded, his voice thick and gravelly. "Harder than before. Harder than ever!" He grabbed handfuls of wing and thrust up. "I need it. I need you!"

A massive surge swept through me. Any suspicion of why he wanted me so much floated to a distant memory, and with it went any control. All that mattered was that this was urgent. Completely urgent.

It couldn't wait.

Trembling, seething with charge, I got up on my hands. Swindle's intakes came in short gasps; his optics blazed up at me, full and purple and liquid. He whimpered, his hands flopped on either side of his head, his fingers curling. I grasped them, pinning him. Then I lifted up, withdrawing my spike in one long, smooth stroke. Pausing, I allowed the agony of anticipation to engulf us both.  
>Swindle's frame shuddered.<p>

I slammed in. Swindle arched back, rigid as his optics shuttered.

I plunged immediately in forceful, long thrusts. It was deep, hot, wonderful, never more exquisite; and I could feel him loving it, wanting it! My own valve cover opened, wet, the nodes tingling.

Faster and faster I pounded in and out, pinning his hands as he clamped both legs around and arched up, thrusting hard back, getting me into him as fully as he could. Then his charge was soaring, his valve tightening and spasming as he rose to climax.

I gripped his hands, going with him, feeling his peak coming, feeling it in my own valve as my spike hardened fit to burst. Up and up we rose; charge sang in our circuits, white noise filled my audios as the universe swam in a sea of colours. Then we hit the peak; and there was only the ecstasy of the brink, before our screams rang out and we soared over the top.

Swindle's valve clamped rigid as charge seared through the end plate. I felt it fire upwards to his core astroseconds before my own systems exploded in release. I drove into him a few more times, coming forcefully, flooding him with hot, gushing transmech fluid as my own valve clenched and unclenched – although it did not quite release.

His valve contracted, a series of hard spasms which carried on going, even as I collapsed on to him and he wrapped around me, hugging me close and panting.

…..

"That was ur-mazing!" Swindle was murmuring.

"Still is," I murmured back. And it was - I meant it - in nearly every way.

I buzzed with the afterglow of satiation, pleasant sensations rippling through all my systems. But one thing was alarmingly evident: my valve had a tingly, 'untended' feeling. I thought I could even feel minute sparks erupting.

But it mattered not; for as I lay on him and we slowly recovered, I had a brilliant idea: _Swindle _could spike _me!_

Instantly I burned again. How exquisite to have a final valve release on top of what had come already! And Swindle could more than adequately provide it, I was sure; he was big enough, even if not quite as impressive as me. Had he not used to be reputed for fucking femmes?

I smiled, and kissed his helm.

But it was not to be. Swindle wriggled uncomfortably and I moved over, my spike retracting, sliding out with a 'fwop' sound, the connector detaching.

I flopped on my front beside him. We both lay on our fronts. He had his hand on his arm looking at me with his gorgeous optics, and I mirrored him, gazing back.

"Mmmnnn …. I love you," he murmured. And I could see to my dismay that he could barely keep awake.

"You too," I said. Then sensations rippled in my valve and I said "Swindle …" But his optics had shuttered.

I had one more try. "Swin, when we wake up, we gotta do this again!"

"When we wake up I gotta do a lotta work," Swindle said, his voice slowing. "Bin a heavy couple a days, Smoke. I got a lotta catching up to do."

He smiled, his voice slowing and deepening. "Be doin' it here though. An 'in between, yeah, that was really really roo-lly, ro-o-l-l-y …..

His voice tapered off. I was alone with my thoughts.

….

I tried to get back offline. I really did. I knew I should just cuddle up next to Swindle and allow the joy of having him away to wash through my awareness, substituting for anything else. After all, had I not whined like a turbofox during this past cycle he was absent?

But I had been offline for a while, and now my processor wanted to be _online._Swindle's intakes sighed peacefully; I looked at him laying there, all golden and smexy. And I could not help it, the suspicions returned.

I sat up. To compound matters , my valve tingled again, releasing minute drops of fluid. I glanced around. The place was a mess – and this time it was all my doing. Well, I figured, I could easily _phase out _and get over this 'valve' thing by doing some more of what had made it a mess...

But my tanks churned at the thought of more high grade and, besides, that _would not do._I needed a distraction. Something which would absorb me, keep my mind and body happily occupied until Swin was ready for 'action.'

Now what would make me forget – completely and utterly - about my _little problem,_ until Swindle awoke ? Make me feel – _good? _My optics strayed to a pile of gaming chips sitting on the dressing table which I had won some time back. In an instant, I had it. The card tables at Ganthis!

My processor did a few quick calculations. If I stole out now, I could catch a fast shuttle to the triple-changer -run , Cybertronian moon casino, and get in a few rounds. I'd be back in time for Swindle waking up – or at least, only just having started work.

I took one more look at my lover. His intakes sighed softly, his little dark face so peaceful that my spark melted. He would be 'out' for ages.

I congratulated myself. Now I thought about it, I felt 'lucky.' The sensations in my valve were already considerably lessened. No – there were pleasant prospects ahead. Swin would be delighted when I came back loaded – we could go somewhere fancy.

And then - I smiled to myself as all my interface gear tingled - we could do that other thing we used to do: arouse each other at the table; get ourselves to a state where we had to do and 'do it' somewhere nearby. A 'risky' place where we were all too likely to be discovered by white fronted waiters and Iaconian 'dining' society. Yes! How Swindle had loved that!

And we could talk about his new 'business' associations in a 'mature,' objective way; talk about how this fitted with _us_ planning for the future. _And_ - I thought resolutely – there would simply be no room for Vortex in the _us_part of it.

And I would ask Swindle about _spiking me._He would be thrilled at the idea, I was sure. And not refuse …

It would almost be like a new start!

With this thought, I leaned over and kissed Swindle's cheek. He stirred, and made a contented sound. My spark warmed. How I did love him! And what a great future we had.

Happy that I would return to the most positive of new thinking, I left the apartment and headed excitedly for the shuttle port.


End file.
